


McKinley School of Arts

by Lilac_Skies



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18760888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilac_Skies/pseuds/Lilac_Skies
Summary: Kurt Hummel was a shining star in McKinley's social hierarchy, being one of the best dancers in the Dance Programme and a perfect candidate for Juilliard. Blaine Anderson was the newest transfer student into the Music Programme, with the voice of an angel and a face to match.When the school faces foreclosure, Will Schuester forms a Glee Club in the hopes to compete in the annual Show Choir Competition and use the winning money to help fund the school. When the two boys' worlds collide in the new Glee Club, will their instant attraction be able to compete against the rigid cliques enforced by their friends, or will they crash and burn?(And why exactly does Kurt look so familiar?)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: All my works are published on multiple different sites under the name LilacSkies or Lilac_Skies

Kurt Hummel’s whole life revolved around dance.

He'd started as soon as he'd been able to walk, was able to pirouette perfectly before he ever learnt how to ride a bike. His parents had signed him up to every available dance class in Lima, training him to be an exceptional dancer, just like his mother was.

Elizabeth Hummel was a household name for anyone passionate about dance. She’d performed alongside The Rockettes, The Paris Opera Ballet, and even made a brief Broadway debut as a backing dancer for Chorus Line. She was phenomenal, and when she fell in love with Burt Hummel on a rainy summers day, she knew that dance was no longer her priority. They were married by the following summer, and had their son the summer after.

Elizabeth made sure her son had ever opportunity, but like her, his passion had clearly been dance. He trained relentlessly, and when Elizabeth was away for tours or performances, he worked even harder. He wanted to show his mother he could be the next big star.

And of course, there was no better place for a dancer to train than at McKinley School of Arts.

Not only was the curriculum rigorous, but it was also highly focused on your discipline of choice. Kurt, of course, was a shoe-in for the Dance Programme, with a focus on ballet and jazz. He breezed through his audition, and before he knew it, he was on the Dance Programme on a partial scholarship, and had scored himself a place in ‘The Primas’ before the end of his first semester as a Freshman.

The Primas were like rock stars in the Dance programme. Identified by their red, white and black leotards and tops, they walked through the halls of McKinley with their heads held high and a long history of consecutive National wins on their shoulders. If you were a Prima, you were destined to be a dancer for the rest of your life.

Kurt truly found a home with The Primas following his parents divorce at the end of his freshman year. His mother left for New York as soon as the papers had been finalised, with the promise of a room for him once he completed high school. The Primas, however, were there to support him through it, and pushed him to use the pain from his parents divorce to push his dance.

By the start of senior year, Kurt Hummel was a shining star. With an audition for Julliard lined up, as well as being flanked his group of Primas, he was focused. He was going to be the next big thing, even if it took blood, sweat and tears.

He was going to get out of Lima, and get himself on a stage in New York. Just like his mother had always wanted

* * *

Kurt walked through the halls of McKinley with his head held high, his red Prima dance vest worn proudly underneath his matching red Prima jacket. His leather sports bag was slung confidently over his left shoulder, his hair coiffed to the heavens. With a protein smoothie in his hand, he walked to his locker to get ready for his morning cardio warmup, followed by a prolonged technique class.

"Someone hit puberty over summer," Santana Lopez, fellow dancer and Prima, complimented him as he opened his locker, flanking his right, "Seriously Hummel, you're smoking. I'd totally let you tap this, you know-"

"Thank you Santana," Kurt rolled his eyes amicably at his friend, "If I miraculously wake up tomorrow with a heterosexual inclination, I'll come straight to you."

"Can't wait," Santana winked as Kurt unloaded whatever textbooks he'd need into his locker, "So, how was my favourite Hummel's summer?"

"Uneventful," Kurt shrugged.

"Seriously?" Santana asked, "No boys? No New York?”

"No boys," Kurt lied, "I don't have time for a boyfriend. Maybe when I'm forty and out of commission. And, my mother was busy this summer.

Santana scoffed, "Oh please, you don’t need a boyfriend to have fun. I mean, look at me.”

“I’d rather not,” Kurt joked.

Santana playfully nudged him as he closed his locker, the two beginning to walk down the corridors to their first dance class of the year together.

“Come on, you must’ve done _something_ worthwhile this summer,” Santana pushed, “Because Quinn told me-“

“Quinn doesn’t know what she saw,” Kurt snapped, turning viciously to his friend, “Just drop it, okay?!”

Because no way was he going to tell his friends about his moment of weakness. McKinley was his perfect world, and nothing was going to ruin that.

“Alright alright, chill Lady Lips,” Santana rolled her eyes, resuming her leisurely stroll alongside him, “Just making conversation…”

Kurt didn’t reply. Instead, he focused on Juilliard. He still had his admissions essay to finish, or well, start. Nothing was going to distract him this year.

* * *

Blaine Anderson was nervous to say the least.

Sure, being a transfer student could be nerve-wrecking, but being a transfer student from an academic private school to an arts-based high-school was a whole new level. He didn’t know how to fit in, _if_ he could even fit in. His mind was a steady tornado of insecurity, his heart racing a million miles a minute.

For the last three years, Blaine had hidden behind the prim uniforms of Dalton Academy, sheltered from the scary outside world he referred to as High School. He'd been a rockstar there, being the lead singer of their show choir, The Warblers, since his sophomore year. Blaine had lived the glamorous life of prep school, but his heart wanted one thing and one thing only; to make music.

And so, when his mother had suggested a transfer to the best arts-centred high school in all of Ohio, Blaine had immediately said yes. Sure, he'd miss his friends and The Warblers, but he needed to step out of his comfort zone to become an artist. He needed to push himself to new limits. Music was his passion and what he intended to do for the rest of his life, so it made sense to drop everything and enter this world.

He thought he’d fit right into this world, but now, standing at the doorway of his first class, he felt… Lost. 

Composition class was held in room M06, a classroom on the far right of the campus. The classroom itself was gorgeous, with sheet music pasted all over the walls and ceiling, and wooden dual-person desks neatly arranged in two rows. However, everyone seemed to have a partner to sit with, some even opting to turn around and chat in small groups. There were still at least a few minutes left to the start of the lesson, and Blaine didn’t know if he should walk in or run for the hills.

As he considered the latter option, he spotted a girl with dark brown hair and bangs sat on her own at the front, furiously scribbling in her pink glittered binder. As if on cue, the minute his eyes landed on her, she turned to face him. Instantly, a friendly smile fell on her face, beckoning him over.

“Is this seat taken?” Blaine asked almost timidly.

“Not at all,” the girl replied eagerly, gesturing for him to sit, “All yours. Are you new, or have you just skipped a few grades?”

“Thanks,” Blaine smiled, sitting down, “And no, I’m a transfer.”

"I'm Rachel Berry," the girl introduced herself, stretching her hand out to Blaine confidently with a dazzling smile, “Fellow senior, and future star.”

“Blaine Anderson,” Blaine replied, shaking her hand.

"You look like you'd have a good tone, but I'm not so sure on your range," Rachel mused to herself quietly, "I have a gift for sniffing out talent."

"Should I be flattered?" Blaine joked.

"Partially. I still haven't heard you sing yet," Rachel remarked, “Do you play an instrument?”

“Guitar and piano, but my passion really is singing,” Blaine explained, nervously bouncing his leg.

“Finally!” Rachel beamed, “I’ve been _dying_ to find a worthy male duet partner. Don’t get me wrong, the girls are great, but we’re _seriously_ lacking in the boys department in the Music Programme.”

Blaine laughed, “Glad to be of service.”

Before the two could continue their conversation, a middle-aged man with a dark vest walked through the door, carrying a stack of sheet music in his hands.

“Good morning everyone,” the teacher smiled, dumping the pile on his desk, “As you know, I’m Mr. Schuester and I will be your teacher for most of your classes this year. Now, let’s get started.

* * *

Will Schuester was a busy man.

Alongside dealing with the consequences of his divorce, he also taught a large part of the music programme in McKinley School Of Arts, as well as tutoring students in the mandatory academic subjects needed to pass their exams. He dedicated his entire life to his students, and he loved every second of it.

Will Schuester was also inexplicably infatuated with none other than Emma Pillsbury, the schools' councillor. 

Therefore, he naturally spent a large part of the years' first lunch faculty meeting swooning over how she meticulously wiped each and every one of her grapes. He only heard snippets of the meeting, that is until-

"-And therefore, we're expecting the school to close by the beginning of next year-"

"What?!" Will exclaimed, turning to Principal Figgins, his daydreaming now forgotten, "How is this happening?"

"Well Will, I'm assuming all that hair gel you put in your excuse of what we normal humans call 'hair' has seeped into your skull, so let me reiterate," Sue Sylvester, the lead dance coach, replied, "We're facing detrimental budget cuts. Investors have pulled out. The school won't be able to fund another year after this."

"There has to be a way," Will pushed, "What about the dance budget? We could distribute that and-"

"Absolutely not," Sue cut in, "We need every penny of that budget. The music programme should be the one to be cut."

"We have more students on the music programme than the dance programme, and you guys spent a ridiculous amount of money on dry-cleaning,“ Will argued, "You can't just-"

"Enough!" Principal Figgins exclaimed, silencing the two teachers, ”We need a solution, not an argument. Now, I suggest everyone starts thinking, because we're running out of time. And fast."

Will couldn't believe what was happening. Performance Art had been his whole life, even from when he was in high school and had been part of the Glee club. It had been one of the happiest times of his life, and he was prepared to sacrifice anything to give his students the same opportunity. They’d competed in show choir competitions, even _won_ National titles a few times. There had to be a way that they could-

And then it hit him.

"I've got an idea," Will announced, looking at his fellow members of staff hopefully, "Something that will help the kids, and bring money to the school. Something that will mix all the Arts programmes together.”

Principal Figgins raised his eyebrows, Sue leaning back into her seat expectantly. 

“Please, William Schuester, do share.”

* * *

“Since you’re new here, and automatically my newest friend, I’m going to explain to you how this school world,” Rachel began as the two found their way into the lunch queue.

“McKinley offers four different Programmes; Dance, Music, Drama and Visual Arts, as well as courses for the technical aspect of all four,” Rachel continued, “That also means that we have cliques, but trust me, they’re necessary. We _don’t_ intermingle with any other course, unless you’re in extracurriculars such as athletics or student council, but even then the clubs are _very_ divided.”

“Why?” Blaine found himself asking as they both grabbed red lunch trays.

“It avoids conflicts of interest,” Rachel shrugged, “For example, a girl in the Visual Arts Programme started dating one of the Technical Theatre students. Scandalous, I know. Anyway, the school was in shock, but we didn’t expect them to last long. In fact, they broke up _within the hour_. There was no other option, really.”

“You guys don’t even do musicals?” Blaine asked, grabbing a simple chicken-salad sandwich.

“The Drama Programme put on a few plays every year, but musicals tend to be a summer-project thing,” Rachel explained, “And even then, there are _very_ obvious cliques.”

Blaine had never thought of cliques, really. He just assumed everyone would get along, but clearly, that wasn’t the case.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the cafeteria, Kurt Hummel was busy gossiping with his Prima friends about the upcoming year.

“I heard Sue wants us to start with Hofesh Shechter in Choreo class,” Santana disclosed as she shook her green juice.

Kurt wrinkled his nose, “I’m all for contemporary, but I’m _dying_ to do more pointe.”

“You’re always dying to do more pointe,” Quinn Fabray pointed out, her blonde hair slicked back into the most impressive ballet bun he’d ever seen, “I heard the Drama geeks threw a riot because their first assignment is a Greek play.”

Brittany Pierce furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, turning to Santana, “Why wouldn’t you want to go play in Greek?”

“Play in _Greece_ ,” Santana corrected her, “And- You know what, never mind.”

Brittany shrugged, playing with the orange in front of her, “Actors are stupid.”

“Hey, hold up,” Santana stopped, throwing her arms out to her friends to stop them from talking before gesturing behind Kurt, “Who’s the _cutie?”_

The quartet turned to face the lunch queue, and Kurt immediately spotted the ‘ _cutie_ ’. He had gelled-back dark hair to accompany his dark triangular eyebrows. He wore a short-sleeved button-down black shirt with a yellow bowtie securely fastened around his collar, matched with a pair of yellow ray-bangs that had been hooked to his black belt, holding up a pair of well-fitted red trousers. To complete the look, he had a glorious pair of black boat shoes. 

Kurt had to admit the boy was rather attractive (okay, _gorgeous),_ but he had none other than Rachel Berry latched to his side, which meant he was a Music Programme student, and Music and Dance did not mix. Ever. Regardless of that, Kurt silently wished the boy might just be a late arrival, or might switch into the Dance Programme. Especially when he turned to face the lunch lady and therefore gave the table the perfect view of-

“That _ass,”_ Santana sighed dreamily, Quinn dramatically fanning herself next to her, “Honestly, one of us _needs_ to tap that. Preferably me.”

“You’re a lesbian,” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“I might be out and proud but I can appreciate some good man-candy when I see it,” Santana replied easily, nudging Quinn, “If he’s straight, you have to take one for the team.”

Quinn rolled her eyes, “I don’t do boys.”

“I’m so glad you’re finally coming out-“

“No Santana,” Quinn smirked, “I’m laying off boys for the year. Besides, if Berry is onto him, no one stands a chance in hell.”

“Kurt, it’s on you,” Santana grinned, eyeing the boy as he followed Rachel Berry to a table, “Obviously, Britt is off the table-“

“No, I’m still here-“

“-So it’s all on you,” Santana continued, ignoring her girlfriend, “If he’s attracted to that Dwarf over there, he’s definitely confused.”

“I’m _also_ laying off boys this year, thank you Satan,” Kurt announced, “Auditions are just a few months away and-“

“Yeah yeah yeah, we know,” Santana waved him off, “God, you’re just _no fun._ ”

However, something somewhere inside Kurt wished that he hadn't made that decision. He silently wished that the unfamiliar boy wasn't Rachel's newest conquest, that he wasn't the newest out of a long list of straight men in the school. However, he suppressed those feelings, and instead swallowed a bite of his salad, mutely listening while Quinn described her summer.

If that boy was going to be walking around the halls of McKinley, looking like that, then Kurt was in trouble. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Shuffle, hop, tap spring, tap step, step._

_Shuffle, hop, tap spring, tap step, step._

_Shuffle, hop, tap spring, shuffle, step, shuffle, step, shuffle, ball-change._

"Alright ladies," Sue Sylvester shouted into her megaphone over the sound of heaving breaths, "That's all for today. Primas, start warming up for after-school practice.”

Kurt wiped the sweat from his forehead as the rest of his class rushed to grab a drink of water. Their Wednesday Tap lesson was one of his favourite classes, but damn it was hard. He was a Prima, not a tapper. His body was a temple made for pointe and pirouettes, not for time steps. 

Kurt made his way to the bench to grab his water bottle, ready to retire his tap shoes for the day, when the sound of the studio door opening echoed through the room. Everyone's heads snapped to the door (because no one _ever_ dared to disturb Sue’s lessons), and Kurt instantly recognised the man walking into their sacred space as Will Schuester, a Music Programme teacher.

"Is that allowed?" Brittany whispered to Kurt as the quiet whispers of the class carried through the studio.

"To what do I owe the displeasure?" Sue asked, her arms crossed in anticipation.

Will smiled amicably at Sue, before turning to face the whole class, "Could I have everyone's attention please?”

Instantly, the murmuring died down, save for a couple of still-out-of-breath dancers. Kurt eyed the teacher warily, sitting down on the bench in anticipation. 

"As I'm sure you all know, there isn't much funding for the Arts in America right now, despite us being very fortunate with being able to do what we do here," Will began, repeating the speech he'd prepared for every single class he'd spoken to this week, "Unfortunately, the school is no longer receiving the same amount of funding as it used to. And so, we're turning to different options... Such as the annual National Show Choir Competition.”

Instantly, everyone began talking and gossiping. Santana raised her hand, effectively silencing her classmates.

"Hold up," Santana announced, lowering her hand, "Please don't tell me you just _waltzed_ in here to recruit people for a Glee club.”

"We're better than than," Quinn added, standing next to Santana, "Plus, we have college auditions coming up-“

"Rehearsals wouldn't interfere with that," Mr Schue interrupted, a friendly smile on his face, "In fact, I'm sure it would give you an edge in your applications. Something that makes you stand out.”

If they _did_ win another National title, Kurt was sure it would give him an extra push for his Juilliard application.

"I don't know why you're trying Will," Sue sighed, almost mockingly, "My kids are dancers. You know what that means? That means they’re mass-murder machines ready to destroy anything in their way. They’re not fit for _Show Choir_.”

Brittany nodded seriously alongside Sue.

“I’m leaving the decision up to you guys,” Will continued, ignoring Sue, “I’ve attached a sign-up sheet to every Programme bulletin board. We want to have as many people on board as possible. It doesn’t matter if you’re an actor, singer, artist or dancer. I’d love to have as many of you at the auditions as possible. Auditions will take place this Friday for those of you interested, and-“

“Alright, that’s enough,” Sue interrupted him, waving him off, “Get going before the stench of your hair gel pollutes the room.”

Will smiled at the class once more before making his way to the door, “Three-thirty in the auditorium on Friday, guys!”

With that, Will Schuester left the studio, murmurs instantly erupting in the class.

“Enough!” Sue shouted in the megaphone, silencing everyone, “If you’re not a Prima, get out. Primas, I want you at the bar. I want to see the best tendus from all of you.”

Everyone rushed to the ballet bar, apart from- 

“Sandbags, Porcelain, Little Miss Peroxide and Tweedle Dumb; not you,” Sue beckoned, waving them over, “I need to have a chat with you.”

The quartet looked at each other fearfully before obediently making their way to Sue.   
“I’m scared,” Brittany whispered to Kurt.

“So am I,” Kurt whispered back as they approached Sue.

“So,” she began, “You four are my star dancers. Literally, you four are the single best dancers in this whole school. Which is why, I want you to sign up for the Glee Club.”

“What?!” Santana and Kurt exclaimed.

“Not to join it but to sabotage it,” Sue rolled her eyes, “I’ve never liked Will Schuester, and the fact that he tried to get _my dancers_ to feed in whatever perverted fantasy he’s got going on is unacceptable. That's why I want you four to infiltrate the Glee Club and make sure they don’t win Nationals.”

“But Coach,” Quinn tried to argue, “We have auditions coming up and-“

“I will write each of you an indisputable, irrefutable, _glowing_ recommendation letter for any school of your choosing.”

Kurt’s heart could’ve stopped. Sue Sylvester _never_ wrote recommendations. Seriously. He’d heard that the last time she wrote one, it was for Obama’s presidential campaign. Needless to say, a recommendation letter from Sue Sylvester would get him into any school he wanted.

“I’m in,” Kurt nodded, already designing his dorm for Juilliard in his mind.

“You’ve always been my favourite Porcelain,” Sue grinned, “Any others of you want to be winners? Or will Ballet-boy Hummel be the only one of you ever to get anywhere in life?”

“We’re in,” Santana shrugged, crossing her arms as Quinn and Brittany nodded.

“Excellent,” Sue nodded, “You will report back to me following your audition. Now, go make yourselves useful and get stretching. I want to see you leap ten feet into the air with those jetes.”

* * *

 

“Can you believe it?” Rachel beamed excitedly to Blaine that Thursday lunchtime, taking a seat at their now-usual table, “I can’t believe Mr. Schue is organising yet _another_ opportunity to showcase _my_ talent in, and we could go to _Nationals!_ Can you believe it?!”

“I-Uh,” Blaine coughed awkwardly, “I was actually, uh, kind-of-in-a-show-choir.”

Rachel paused, “What?”

“In my old school,” Blaine explained, “I, um… Was kind of their lead singer. I’m surprised McKinley didn’t already have one, actually.” 

“Blaine, this is _perfect!_ ” Rachel shrieked, grabbing her arm in excitement, “You can help me prepare for my audition! We could meet after school and note each-others solos!”

When Blaine didn’t reply, Rachel pushed, “You are auditioning, right?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine shrugged, looking down at his shoes, “If I had to compete against my old group… I don’t know how I’d feel, you know? Those guys are my _best friends-“_

“If they’re your friends, they’ll understand,” Rachel explained, “We could even do a duet for the audition if you want. I can already see it actually; we’d make the perfect Tony and Maria! ‘One Hand, One Heart’ was written for our voices, and we could get props and-“

“Rachel,” Blaine coughed, “I think I should probably tell you now that’s I’m, uh… Gay.”

“I know silly,” Rachel sighed, “I’ve got two gay dads, so my gaydar is perfect. That doesn’t mean we wouldn’t have the perfect Tony and Maria chemistry.”

Blaine sighed in relief. He wasn’t afraid of coming out to Rachel, but Rachel was so intense sometimes that he didn’t know if it was just her personality or her atrocious attempt at flirting.

“So,” Rachel continued excitedly, “Will you audition?”

Blaine sighed, considering his options. Performing was what he loved, so why shouldn’t he take this opportunity?

“Fine,” Blaine sighed, bracing himself as Rachel flung herself to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders.

“We’re going to _kill_ this audition!”

* * *

 

Will Schuester stood nervously on the stage of the auditorium, watching nervously as few-and-far-between students filtered in to fill the rows of chairs. He hadn’t had many sign-ups for the auditions, but when the clock hit three-fourty-five, he knew he had to start even if he barely had a dozen students in front of him.

“Welcome everyone!” Will smiled cheerily, “And thank you all for coming today. For the next few hours, all I truly want to hear is your voices. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Dancer, Musician, Actor or an Artist. If you can hold a tune, you’re more than welcome into the New Directions.”  


“Lousy name,” Kurt whispered to Quinn, who had to stifle her laughter. 

“My co-judge, Miss Pillsbury, will be helping me today,” Will explained, gesturing to the red-headed councillor at the table amongst the audience, “You’ll be accompanied by Brad at the piano today, unless you have your own accompaniment or you’d like to play yourselves.”

“Dude, did you bring a guitar?” Finn Hudson, athlete and Actor, asked his best friend, Sam Evans.

Sam shrugged, “I like playing.”

“Without further ado, lets begin,” Will clapped his hands, “Miss Pillsbury?”

“Yes,” Emma Pillsbury smiled, reading from her list, “First up; Mercedes Jones.”

For the first hour, Kurt sat surrounded by his fellow Primas as he watched the auditions. Mercedes had sung a fantastic rendition of ‘ _Try A Little Tenderness’_ , followed by a big-lipped boy who sang _‘Billionaire’_ , and an awkward-looking Asian goth girl who sung _‘I Kissed A Girl’_. She was then followed by Mike, a fellow dance-programme classmate, who simply decided to dance a ten-minute contemporary dance solo (even though Mr. Schuester had repeatedly asked him to sing), and was then followed by a boy with a mohawk who sang _‘Sweet Caroline’_ (Kurt pretended not to notice Quinn swoon at that one). 

“Next is; oh, this is a group audition!” Miss Pillsbury called excitedly, “Quinn, Santana and Brittany?”

“You guys are auditioning together?” Kurt hissed, glaring at his friends as they stood up.

“Sue picked the song,” Santana shrugged, pinching Kurt’s cheek, “Get ready to laugh, Lady-Lips.”

Sure enough, Kurt had to contain his laughter for the whole song. Sue had picked none other than _‘Say A Little Prayer’_ for the three girls, which he knew was _hardly_ the right song for any of them to sing. However, they executed it perfectly, even with the cheesy choreography they’d produced.

“Thank you girls,” Will Schuester beamed, ticking them off his list, “Next is; Artie Abrams.”

“That was the single best performance of your lives,” Kurt teased as the girls sat down, earning him a playful nudge from Quinn

“ _Anything_ for that recommendation letter,” Quinn smiled, turning to watch as a boy in a wheelchair began singing _‘Dancing With Myself’_ whilst simultaneously playing it on his guitar.

Kurt had to admit that he was good. Actually, everyone had been good. Even Tina, the awkward goth-girl, had a good voice. Sure, not many of them blew him away, but he was Kurt Hummel. It was hard to impress him. 

“Thank you Artie,” Miss Pillsbury smiled, looking down at her list, “Next is… Oh, another group audition. Blaine and Rachel?”

Kurt’s attention suddenly perked up. Not only was the pretty-no, gorgeous boy from Monday preparing himself to get on stage, but he was also flanked by none other than Rachel Berry, self-proclaimed diva.

“We’ll be singing _‘Broadway Baby’_ from the timeless classic Follies,” Rachel beamed as Blaine handed Brad the sheet music.

And okay, they were brilliant. Phenomenal even, with their choreography and mannerisms, even down to the synchronised movement. However, Kurt wished Blaine (he’d remembered his name, thank god) had auditioned on his own so that Kurt could’ve heard more of that voice.

Because quite frankly, his voice was nearly as gorgeous as he was.

When the song ended, the two were out of breath and sweaty (but still gorgeous as always), and Kurt secretly found himself wishing Blaine was gay.

“Stop staring, it’s bad for your eyes,” Brittany whispered, Kurt deciding to ignore the snickers coming from Santana's seat. 

“Thank you guys, that was incredible,” Mr Schuester smiled widely, looking down at his own list, “And next we have… Kurt Hummel?”

Kurt froze. He kind of forgot he’d also have to sing.

Quinn nudged him out of his seat, and he steadily made his way to the stage, giving Brad the sheet music on his way.

“I’m Kurt Hummel,” Kurt began nervously, opting to use a standing microphone, “And I’ll be singing ‘I Have Nothing’ by Whitney Houston.”

Miss Pillsbury frowned before speaking into her own microphone, “Kurt, are you aware that it’s traditionally sung by a girl?”

_‘Yes I just said her name out loud,’_ Kurt wanted to hiss. Instead, he awkwardly smiled, “Yes, I’m aware.”

And before he knew it, Brad had started playing.

_“Share my life_

_Take me for what I am_

_'Cause I'll never change_

_All my colors for you…”_

Kurt wasn’t stupid. He knew he was a good singer, but dance had always been his priority. Besides he knew he had a ridiculously high voice, and was unsuitable for about 99.9% of all male leads in musicals. Regardless, he sang his heart out until the very last note, smiling politely as the other students clapped.

“That was… Wow,” Miss Pillsbury smiled as he stepped off the stage, “Thank you Kurt. Our final audition… Finn Hudson?” 

Kurt rushed to his seat ignoring the whispers of _‘A countertenor?’_ and ‘ _Damn, that girl was good’._ He sat himself back down in his seat quickly, ignoring his friends stares.

“Hummel, I swear to God if you don’t sing my future children to sleep every night for the rest of their lives, I will kick your ass,” Santana hissed, and that was enough for Kurt to know he’d done well.

After the final boy had sung an okay rendition of ‘ _I Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore’_ , Mr Schuester dismissed everyone, announcing that the first rehearsal would take place the following Tuesday after school, and that it would also include a dance round to see everyones abilities. Kurt and the rest of the Primas were the first to leave the auditorium, eager to get home after a rigorous day of training with Sue.

“See you guys on Sunday for Prima practice?” Quinn asked, because of course Sue would have the Primas train on weekends as well.

“Of course,” Kurt smiled, twirling his car keys between his fingers, “See you guys!”

Silently, Kurt was hoping that Tuesday would just hurry up and get here, because he couldn’t _wait_ to hear Blaine sing again.


	3. Chapter 3

_So he’s beautiful, and a countertenor._

“A countertenor!” Rachel squeaked from his side, “Can you believe he’s being wasted on the Dance Programme?”

“You know him?” Blaine whispered, watching as the beautiful boy with blue eyes walked past their row.

“He’s one of the Primas, everyone knows him,” Rachel explained, turing back to face the stage when Finn started singing.

Blaine had never seen someone so beautiful in his life. Kurt Hummel was unequivocally stunning, and Blaine could hardly wait to see what else that boy could do. His voice was perfect, and with that countertenor range, Blaine could easily see them winning Nationals. There was something about Kurt that was oddly familiar, as if he’d already met him once upon a time, and Blaine couldn’t wait to get to know that boy.

The auditions ended soon after Finn finished singing, and he followed Rachel out of the auditorium and to the carpark easily. Blaine’s head was full of images of that boy, and quite frankly, Rachel wasn’t too far off either.

“I mean I know he’s twice my height and a little gangly, but wouldn’t we make the most perfect couple?” Rachel gushed as she continued her prolonged monologue about Finn Hudson, “It’s a pity he’s not in the Music Programme.”

“Why should that stop you?” Blaine asked, “I mean, if you like someone, it doesn’t matter what Programme they’re in-“

“Stop right there,” Rachel interrupted, turning to face her newest friend, “You’ve been in this school for one week. You are _not_ challenging the whole eco-system of McKinley simply because you’re projecting some silly little crush you have on Kurt onto my situation.”

“I don’t have a crush on Kurt,” Blaine protested.

“Sure you don’t,” Rachel grinned, “Your secret is safe with me. Now come on, the Lima Bean shuts in two hours and I have two binders full of song ideas for our first Glee duet together.”

“You what?!” Blaine exclaimed, but let himself be dragged away by Rachel anyway.

* * *

 

“That woman is a psychopath,” Kurt announced the following Tuesday as he left his final class of the day; Intense Cardio. 

“Amen,” Quinn heaved as she hobbled besides Kurt, the four of them barely able to stand after Sue’s intense work-out.

“I can’t feel my toes,” Brittany whispered to her girlfriend as Santana wrapped her arm around Brittany’s shoulders.

“I can’t feel my _heart,”_ Kurt complained, ignoring Santana’s breathless dig of _“You had one of those?”_

“I don’t want to go to Glee Club,” Brittany complained, “Can’t we just skip?”

“Mike’s going,” Quinn added, pointing to the barely-standing Asian on the other side of the corridor.

“Mike didn’t also have Prima practice all day on Sunday,” Kurt pointed out, seriously debating Brittany’s idea to skip.

“Come on guys,” Santana pushed, “If we don’t go in there and start getting the ball rolling for Sue, she’ll skin us alive.”

“Point taken,” Kurt nodded, the quartet now walking through the music classroom corridor, “What room was it again?”

“M13,” Quinn replied, her eyes scanning the room numbers until, finally, they came across the classroom at the end of the corridor.

Or well, what should’ve been a classroom. Even from peering through the open doorway, the quartet could tell the room hadn’t been used in possibly decades. It had been mediocrely cleaned, with heaps of dust still pilled in the corner of the room with a brush. The seats had been arranged up a slightly elevated platform with different levels, like tiered seating in a theatre. A black piano had been dragged in from one of the music rooms, taking centre left of the floor.

But even with the newer furniture, the room was a mess. There was peeling paint from the walls and some of the chairs had pieces of the backs missing. The floors had black scratch marks, as if someone had danced on it with newly-painted shoes. The whiteboard was murky and unwashed, stained with whatever information the classroom had once been used to teach with. 

“Glamorous,” Santana remarked as the four stepped inside, looking around, “Looks nearly as good as the storage closet on the second floor.”

“Hilarious,” Quinn smirked, the four barely registering the others in the room as they took four seats in the back row of the room next to Mike Chang.

Kurt knew Mike was a talented dancer, but he just wasn’t Prima material. He was more hip-hop and contemporary than jazz and ballet, and although there was nothing wrong with that, it had sort of created this invisible barrier between Mike and the rest of the Primas. That, and Mike wasn’t much of a talker. Regardless, Kurt firmly believed they should stick together, as there were so few of them from the Dance Programme in the room.

People trickled in as the minutes passed by. It seemed that everyone who had auditioned had scored themselves a spot in Glee Club, as Kurt had expected. Kurt had opted to file his nails nonchalantly whilst the girls gossiped around him, but it was only when he heard the shrill voice of Rachel Berry did he look up.

Because there, standing next to Rachel at the front of the room, was none other than Blaine, clad in a grey cardigan that made him look _just_ that little more adorable. 

“Isn’t this so exciting?” he heard Rachel squeal to Blaine as the two took two seats at the front, “So many people to sing backup for _us.”_

“Excuse me but, who said we’ll be singing backup?” a girl in the second row asked, who Kurt recognised as Mercedes from the audition.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend anyone,” Rachel amended, turning to face Mercedes, “It’s just that Blaine and I have that special type of _star quality_ that I’m all sure you witnessed on Friday. It would be silly _not to_ give us the leads.”

“Girl-“ Mercedes started, obviously infuriated, but she was thankfully cut off by Mr Schue entering the room.

“Good afternoon everyone!” he smiled brightly, taking the front of the room as Rachel turned back around, “Welcome to the first rehearsal for the New Directions. I have to say, I was blown away by the amount of talent you guys displayed on Friday-“

“Thank you,” Brittany replied, earning a few odd looks from the room.

“-Which is why,” Mr Schuester continued, “I’m excited to start working on our songs for Sectionals. We’re only a few months away, so let’s get started. But first; I’d like us all to get to know each other better-“

“I’ll start!” Rachel volunteered, raising her hand before swivelling and standing up along side Mr. Schuester, “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Rachel Berry, and I’m a singer on the Music Programme.”

“Thank you Rachel,” Mr Schue smiled almost awkwardly, gesturing for her to take a seat.

“I’m Blaine Anderson,” Blaine supplied, turning in his seat to address the majority of the club, “I’m on the Music Programme with Rachel. I just transferred to McKinley last week, actually.”

“Where did you transfer from Blaine?” Mr. Schue asked, crossing his arms.

“Dalton Academy,” Blaine supplied with a smile, and Kurt felt his blood run cold.

He knew he’d recognised Blaine, and of course, _of course_ he had to be from Dalton. He was probably in The Warblers, too. Kurt could feel Quinn’s eyes on him, because Quinn _knew,_ she knew exactly what Kurt had been doing that summer, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of Blaine recognising him, or talking to him, or _worse._

Kurt kept his composure, despite being an anxious mess inside. He didn’t want his friends to know all the dirty little secrets of his summer, but if Blaine recognised him, he was _doomed._

Kurt’s internal monologue was interrupted by the sound of the other students introducing themselves. Mercedes was the only other person in the Music Programme, which was quite surprising. Finn, Sam and Artie were all in the Drama Programme, with Artie having a main focus on directing. Tina and Puck were Visual Arts students, which explained Puck’s paint-stained jeans and Tina’s large black portfolio resting against the far left wall. Mike, Brittany and Santana introduced themselves, leaving just Kurt and Quinn.

“I’m Kurt Hummel,” Kurt began, awkwardly waving, “I’m on the Dance Programme and I’m part of the Primas.”

“And I’m Quinn Fabray,” Quinn continued, “Captain of the Primas.”

“Fantastic,” Mr Schue smiled, “It’s so great to have so many of you from different programmes here.”

And so, the lesson began, with Mr Schue explaining the process they’d be undergoing. They had to win their Sectionals to perform in Regionals, and win their Regionals to perform in Nationals (which would be held in New York, much to Kurt’s pleasure). It was only twenty minutes into the lesson when Mr Schuester announced they’d be dancing today, just to see where everyone's ability was.

All five dancers groaned in pain, Mike especially, who nearly slipped off his seat. Some of the other students eyed them questioningly, but regardless, the five got up and joined the others at the front of the room.

It was going to be a _long_ hour.

* * *

 

“Thank you guys for all your hard work,” Mr Schue smiled at the New Directions, “I really want us to get to know each other better, to work as a team and as a family. I’ll see you all back here Thursday after school.”

With a final smile, Mr Schue left the room, eager to tell Miss Pillsbury all about McKinley’s newest club.

The four Primas shuffled to get their stuff and go. They were exhausted, and Kurt couldn’t wait to soak in a steamy hot bath. Maybe he’d read the newest copy of Vogue, or watch a film, or _something_ to pamper himself with-

“We should have a party.”

Everyone turned to Noah Puckerman, the self-proclaimed bad boy of the group. He smirked when he realised he’d indeed caught everyones attention.

“My place,” Puck continued, “This Saturday. Mr Schue wants us to get to know each other better, right?”

“As the leader of this group-“ Rachel began, ignoring Mercedes glares, “-I think we should focus on Sectionals and-“

“I think it’s a great idea,” Santana supplied, taking a step forwards with her signature bitch smirk, “I know I don’t know you Berry, but I can already tell you’re so tight up your own arse that you probably don’t even know what the word _fun_ means.”

“I can have fun,” Rachel defended, pausing before turning to Puck, “I’ll be there.”

“I’ll get the booze,” Puck continued, “We need to loosen up a little.”

“Word,” Artie agreed.

As everyone busied themselves with excitement, talking to their friends about the upcoming party, Blaine stared at Kurt. He couldn’t get over just how elegant he looked, with his long lashes and bright blue eyes. He was stunning, angelic even. There was no way a boy like that would like a boy like him.

But the party, and the whole Glee Club, was a way to be close to him. And quite frankly, Blaine didn’t mind that.


	4. Chapter 4

Saturday arrived quickly. Santana, Quinn and Brittany had been in Kurt’s room for the last two hours, getting ready to arrive fashionably late at Pucks party. Even Kurt was dressed to perfection, with his hair coiffed up even higher than usual. They were now lounging casually in Kurt’s room, waiting for seven-thirty to roll by, flicking through Kurt’s various fashion magazines.

“Do you think people will actually show up?” Kurt asked doubtfully, lying on his comforter with a magazine above his head. 

“Well if not, at least Quinn can get her mack on with Mohawk,” Santana remarked, her head in Brittany’s lap as she swiped through last month’s vogue.

“Excuse me?!” Quinn demanded.

“Oh don’t play dumb,” Santana rolled her eyes, sitting up, “We’ve all seen you give him _the eyes_. Him and The-Big-Friendly-Giant. I mean come on Quinn, when was the last time you even _kissed_ a guy? And don’t answer that, because we all know it was in last years production of ‘Fame’ with Joe Hart backstage in the handicapped bathroom.”

“You guys dated for like, a month,” Brittany agreed.

“I don’t need a guy to feel good about myself,” Quinn shrugged, “And trust me, Puckerman is the last on my list.”

“So it’s Finn Hudson then?” Kurt asked, rolling over to face Quinn, “I can see how he’s kind of cute with the dorky friendly giant appeal, but I think we can all recognise that you can do better than him.”

“It’s neither of them,” Quinn protested, pausing before adding, “But yes, Finn is cute.”

Quinn laughed as she dodged a pillow flying towards her face. She hit it out of the way, effectively hitting Kurt. And of course, that set off a rowdy pillow fight between the four best friends.

“We’re so going to be late!” Brittany laughed, dodging a pillow as she threw one back to Quinn.

* * *

 

At precisely eight-thirty, the quartet pulled up in front of the Puckermans house in Kurt’s navigator, having just re-applied their makeup and re-adjusted their hair. Kurt parked his car in the driveway, as instructed by Puck, as Brittany still found feathers in her hair and bra ( _“Does this mean I’m a chicken now?”)_. 

“It looks pretty quiet,” Kurt noticed as they all stepped out of the car, “Are we early?”

“We’re an hour and a half late,” Quinn pointed out.

“Oh who cares,” Santana rolled her eyes, the four now walking to the front door, “Even if this place is dead we can just grab the free booze and ditch.”

Kurt ignored her, straightening out his collar in the glass doors’ reflection before ringing the doorbell. They waited a few moments before the sound of thudding footsteps could be faintly heard from inside the house, and before they knew it, the door was swung open by a rather tipsy Noah Puckerman.

“Hey dudes,” Puck greeted with a smile, the faint sound of music coming from somewhere in the house, “Come on in, we’ve just started. Everyone’s in the den.”

“Thanks Puckerman,” Santana smirked, following Puck through his living room and down a set of narrow stairs to his so-called ‘den’.

“Nice house,” Quinn commented, eyeing the family pictures lining the stairway.

Puck didn’t reply, instead he simply opened the door.

Puck’s ‘den’ was precisely what Kurt had expected it to be. The walls of the large basement were covered in multi-coloured graffiti, the spray paint reading both swearwords and random words such as ‘gabelle’ and ‘xertz’. The walls that weren’t covered with graffiti were disguised by large bookshelves, holding supplies such as paints and sketchbooks. Speakers were balanced on the top of the bookshelves, blasting out whatever old rocksong Puck had put on. 

A pool table was tucked into a little wide alcove on the side of the room, where Finn and Sam were challenging each other to down beers, Artie cheering him on. A circle of beanbags and old couches took the centre of the room, with Tina and Mike on one of the couches, looking oddly cosy. Mercedes and Rachel were dancing drunkenly in the middle of that circle, laughing to each other every time one of them tripped up. Kurt scanned the room, but he couldn’t spot Blaine anywhere.

Until his eyes landed on the mini fridge propped up against the far left wall, where Blaine was getting another can of beer from. Thankfully, Kurt and his girls had brought their own drinks, because there was no way in hell that Kurt Hummel was drinking beer. However, as he watched Blaine crack the can open and take a swig, his mind was suddenly changed.

“Come on ladies,” Santana winked, pulling her bottle of cheap wine out of her jacket, “Lets dance.”

And so, that’s how Kurt’s night started, surrounded by his three friends as they all chugged from their bottles of wine. They mingled with the others a little when Finn and Sam came to join them, and Kurt even had a decent conversation with Artie. However, that all changed when Puck ordered everyone to sit in the circle in the middle of the room.

Kurt had squeezed himself between the edge of the sofa and Quinn, while Brittany and Santana shared the beanbag to his right. Everyone else piled into the circle, Blaine landing directly across from Kurt on the sofa opposite, where Rachel, Mike and Tina were also sat. Puck and Sam had taken the rest of Kurt and Quinn’s sofa, the others sat on various beanbags, or in Artie’s case, sat next to one of the couches.

“I call to order our first game of never have I ever,” Puck announced, raising his can to the air, “The rules are simple; if you’ve done something, drink.”

“We’re not twelve Puckerman,” Santana informed him boredly, turning to the rest of the people in the room, “You guys better make this juicy.”

“I’ll start,” Finn offered with a goofy smile, “Never have I ever… Ditched class.”

Santana snorted at the question while Sam, Puck, Artie and Mercedes swigged their drinks, snickers echoing in the group.

“My go,” Rachel squeaked, obviously intoxicated, “Never have I ever been arrested.”

Puck and Santana took a swig, whoops and cheers following as Puck proceeded to down his drink. He stood up to grab another one from the mini fridge as Santana put her hand up.

“Never have I ever had sex,” Santana smirked, and Kurt froze.

_‘Maybe if I just sip it quickly, no one will notice,’_ Kurt thought as he watched Brittany, Mike, Santana, Puck and Sam all take swigs of their drinks. Kurt quickly sipped his drink, shielded by the even louder cheers that filled the room, and for a moment he thought he’d gotten away with it, that he’d-

“HOLD UP!” Santana yelled over the cheers, sharply turning to Kurt, “Lady Hummel got deflowered and _I_ wasn’t invited to the afterparty?!”

Kurt could feel himself blush, averting his eyes to the floor. He should’ve just not drunk, because now he could feel everyones eyes on him.

“Just leave it, Satan,” Quinn dismissed Santana, who leant back into Brittany and folded her arms. Kurt shot Quinn a thankful yet knowing look, before Quinn continued the game, “Never have I ever been in a fight.”

Kurt composed himself long enough to watch Puck, Santana and, very surprisingly, _Blaine_ , all take a drink. Blaine’s eyes stayed to the floor for the rest of the game, only meeting Rachel’s when she tried to make him laugh. The game carried on normally, with Kurt only drinking a few more times. Eventually, Puck declared he was bored, and ordered everyone to start dancing one more.

* * *

 

_Boyfriend._

_Of course Kurt had a boyfriend._

Maybe Blaine had been silly to think that he actually had a shot with Kurt, because of course he had a boyfriend (or girlfriend, he seemed quite cosy with Quinn), but could you blame him? Kurt was _beautiful._

Blaine couldn’t stop thinking about it, and when everyone started dancing once more, he decided to take a seat on the mini fridge, away from everyone's drunken dancing. Instead of writing and dancing, he nursed his beer and watched Rachel aimlessly flirt with Finn.

“She’s a little tragic, isn’t she?”

Blaine was surprised to spin his head around and find Kurt next to him, leaning against the wall as he drank from a red solo cup, watching Rachel and Finn also.

“She means well,” Blaine replied, trying to stop his heart from beating out of his chest, “Most of the time.”

“He seems like he’s into her,” Kurt commented, his eyes flickering to Quinn, who had been dancing with Puck since they’d finished the game, “What about you?”

“Rachel?” Blaine asked, realisation dawning on him, “Oh no! No, um, she’s just a friend.”

Kurt didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking, but he couldn’t stop himself from replying with “I’m glad.”

Silence fell between them, Blaine’s heart pounding more than it had all night. _Had Kurt really said that?_ He took advantage of the silence by watching Kurt for the first time, really taking him in. He looked so much better in his own clothes, rather than the garish red Prima jackets and uniforms. He was wearing a grey patterned button-down long sleeved shirt with black suspenders and tightly-fitting black jeans, paired with black lace-up boots going halfway up his calves. His hair was, well, _perfect,_ and Blaine couldn’t quite tell if he hated or loved him for it.

“Quinn and Puck seem cosy,” Blaine remarked, nodding over to the pair who were making their way upstairs, “I’m glad he had this party.”

“How come?”

“In my old Glee Club, we’d do stuff like this all the time,” Blaine explained, not missing the fact that Kurt wouldn’t meet his eyes, “It’s nice to see everyone bond, you know?”

Kurt snorted, “The Warblers have crazy traditions…”

Blaine quirked his eyebrow, “And how do you know that?”

Kurt froze. Shit.

Before he could make up some sort of excuse, Brittany waltzed up to him, topless and very intoxicated

“Come dance with me and Santana,” she slurred, dragging Kurt with her in a fit of giggles.

Blaine watched Kurt be dragged off, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts, clicking on his best friends name.

> _To: Gavel Man_
> 
> _Did we ever have a Kurt in Dalton?_

“Mike! Come join us!” Brittany called to Mike as Blaine patiently waited for a reply from Wes. Mike waved Brittany off as he continued his conversation with Tina.

> _From: Gavel Man_
> 
> _Hi Blaine, my best friend, ex-Warbler and probably the reason we won’t win Nationals this year; how are you? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Oh, I’m great, thank you for asking by the way._

Blaine rolled his eyes, quickly replying.

> _To: Gavel Man_
> 
> _Okay okay fine, you’re right. Sorry. How are The Warblers?_

“Hey, has anyone seen Puck?!”

> _From: Gavel Man_
> 
> _The Warblers are fine, thank you. Sebastian, Jeff and Nick are going head-to-head for the Sectionals solo spot._
> 
> _And to answer your question, no. To my knowledge (and according to online school records), we haven’t had a Kurt since 1995._

_‘That’s weird,’_ Blaine thought, _‘Only Dalton students know about Warbler traditions.’_

Blaine didn’t reply to Wes. Instead, he watched as Puck and Quinn descended from the staircase, Quinn with a lot less lipstick on than when she came in. Puck had a new beer in his hand, grabbing Finn and Sam and knocking his beers with them, effectively saving Finn from the wrath of Rachel Berry. He watched as Quinn slyly waved at Kurt, catching his attention before gesturing for him to follow her upstairs. Without hesitation, Kurt pushed his drink into Brittany’s hand, following the pretty blonde upstairs.

“Shots?!” Puck yelled, distracting Blaine from Kurt. Everyone cheered, and in that moment, Blaine decided to forgo moping over his lost chances with Kurt, and instead enjoy his first McKinley party.

* * *

 

Kurt waited until the basement door was closed behind them, turning sharply to Quinn once he’d pushed it shut, “What do you want, Fabray?”

“You need to talk about _it,”_ Quinn stated simply, folding her arms, “And since you refuse to tell anyone else, here’s your chance. Spill.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Kurt denied, “I had a summer fling. _That’s it.”_

“Do I need to remind you that I found you _crying_ in a pot of high-fat frozen yoghurt in the middle of the night on my porch?” Quinn deadpanned, “Come on Kurt, you can’t even bring yourself to say his name-“

“Because he’s insignificant to me now,” Kurt sighed, leaning back against the wall, “Look, I had a few weeks of weakness, but I’m back on track now. Nothing can distract me.”

“Not even the mysterious dark-haired singer downstairs?”

Kurt glared at Quinn, “No. And speaking of distractions; what _exactly_ were you doing with Puck of all people?”

Quinn rolled her eyes, an unmissable rosy blush flooding her cheeks, “It’s none of your business, but he was showing me some of his art.”

Kurt raised his eyebrow, “Is that what the kids are calling it now?”

“I just wanted to make sure you knew you had someone to talk to,” Quinn interrupted, diverting the conversation back onto Kurt, “And to keep you on track. I don’t want you throwing yourself onto some other guy just because some stupid prep boy broke your heart this summer. You’re one of our best dancers-“

“-I’m aware-“

“-And I’m not going to let anything distract you from getting into Juilliard,” Quinn finished, walking towards the basement door, “Now come on, I want to be there when Rachel gets monumentally rejected by Finn. Maybe we can video it.” 


End file.
